


Gypsy Veil

by TheLastSparrow



Category: Original Work
Genre: Forbidden Love, Gen, Gypsy, Love, Russian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 02:42:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20940956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastSparrow/pseuds/TheLastSparrow
Summary: A young gypsy girl dancing for the men that throw their coins, catches the eye of an older soldier.





	Gypsy Veil

The beautiful melodic droning of a slightly off key violin echoed in the glowing meadow. The light from the bonfire illuminated the trees encircling the caravan camp. The women danced in fast turns and dramatic gestures as they rounded the fire. The metal baubles and bangles decorating their clothes rang and jingled as they moved. The men from the town come to these gatherings. They liked to drink bottles of home-brew, strong alcohol and watch the women dance.   
The sounds of women trilling and whooping as they danced was heard over the music being played. Many people sat around the fire inside the ring of wagons. Women sitting in the laps of men feeding them fruit, helping them drink from darkened bottles all while the drunken sets of hands would roam their bodies. Rough hands up skirts, delicate grasps below the belt. Once in awhile a couple would sneak away to rendezvous behind wagons. Sometimes the couples didn’t even leave the circle. Moans of pleasure would echo into the night. 

A young girl barely past her nineteenth summer danced around the fire. The tambourine in her hand rattled with a quick, but graceful movements. The veil covering her mouth and nose showed her innocence. She was an untouched pure creature. And was off limits to the gathering men. Even with that rule many eyes were on her. She smiled and twirled around the fire. She laughed with her clan sisters, Her bare feet padded against the dirt and grass. She did a spin and her many layered skirt flowed around her. Her long ebony hair fell in coiled tendrils against her back. Like the serpents of Medusa moving with her.

She looked at the people watching. Not many people were watching her tonight, but one intense stare caught her attention. Eyes shimmering in the firelight, below the brim of a tan horseman’s hat. She locked eyes with him. His stare bore into her. A couple women had come up to him and he had turned them away. She pulled herself away from the gaze of those intense brown eyes. Her mother pulled her aside and told her to go grab more bottles from the supply wagon. She smiled and nodded. She pranced happily out of the circle. 

The supply wagon was off on its own away from the rest of the wagons. To keep it safe when the clan was having a gathering. She hummed to herself as she walked to it. The tambourine hanging from her waist jingled as she walked. She opened the door to the wagon and started pulling a couple more dark bottles from a crate in the back. She set them on the ground at her feet. She stopped, letting out a soft gasp feeling something trail down her back. She went to turn around and was stopped by a strong hand holding her arm. She looked over her shoulder. She met a pair of deep brown eyes. His other hand trailed down her arm. His work worn skin was rough against her pampered gypsy skin. “I was hoping you would wander away from the herd, princess.” He said softly against her ear his facial hair scratched against her neck and shoulder. She gripped the bottle in her hand tight. Ready to use it as a weapon if she had too. His strong hand was tender with her as it slid down her arm to the hand with the bottle. His grip tightened on her hand making her drop the bottle. And it bashed against the wooden edging of the wagon shattering and sloshing honey scented liquid onto the ground. She gasped in fear and he turned her around quickly, pressing her back against the rear wall of the wagon. He reached up and tugged on the veil covering her face. She looked at him and before he could darted into the back of the wagon trying to pull the door closed. He was too fast and strong. He pushed the door out of her hand and climbed in. She backed against some of the crates.

“Please, sir. There are many other women out there that would be much better than I.” Her rich Russian accent stood out against the fear in her words and the slight stumbles as she searched for the proper words. He looked at her and his face softened. “I am not gonna hurt ya, darlin’.” He stepped towards her, causing her to step back and trip. She fell sitting on a larger crate. She looked at him and held her hands up in front of her face in defense. “Then what do you want with me.?” He walked up and knelt in front of her, even kneeling he was large in stature compared to her still looking eye to eye. “I have seen you dance many times since your people have come to town. You are mesmerizing. I needed to have just a moment.” He reached up and lowered her arms. She looked into his eyes. She knew he was sincere. It made her heart beat fast seeing the look in his eyes. He reached up and put his hand on her cheek. Her sun kissed skin burned against his palm. Her face blazed with blush. She was breathing deep and staggered. A feeling of admiration and devotion washed over her. Instinctively she pressed into his touch. She place a small hand over his on her face. His free hand reached for the veil again. “Please let me see you.” He pleaded in a hushed tone. She nodded softly. He unhooked the veil from behind her ear and it fell to one side. His eyes traveled her face. This was the first time a non-clan man had seen her face unmasked. He gave her a soft smile that was half hidden by his mustache and beard. “I knew you were beautiful.” She blushed deep crimson again. “Thank you, sir.” She stammered out. He shook his head. “No, not sir. I am Volken.” She formed a small half smile. “Volken.” She repeated. He chuckled and nodded. He liked the way his name sounded coming from that beautiful and tempting mouth. His thumb caressed her skin softly. “What is your name, princess?” She swallowed hard. “Kisaya.”


End file.
